Chapter Nine

As Terry circulated through the throng of people and listened to the art show patrons critique his work, their reactions thrilled him. From what he’d been able to garner, his paintings were a resounding success. The buzz around the gallery led him to believe that several pieces of art had already sold.

Throughout the evening, he’d purposely kept his distance from Solitude. Since his passion for the piece extended to the extreme, if people didn’t react to it as he’d hoped they would his heart would break. If anyone dared to offer any negative remarks, he didn’t want to hear them. The portrait laid his heart and soul wide open on the canvas. People judging Solitude meant they were judging him, not on a professional level but on a purely personal level. To hear someone tearing the portrait apart would be too difficult and may result in bloodshed.

Still, his curiosity got the best of him. He kept nervously glancing over at the crowd surrounding the portrait. Throughout the evening, people gathered around Solitude and scrutinized it with intensity. The patrons would gaze upon his masterpiece until Julianne stepped in signaling the time had come to move on to other pieces of art. She would gently nudge them out of the way to make room for new viewers who’d patiently waited for their opportunity to see the canvas. That had to be a good sign.

Julianne deserved kudos for doing a magnificent job showcasing Solitude in such a short period of time. The canvas, while in a place of prominence, was angled in such a way the viewer had to walk around to see it. This approach created a unique kind of unveiling experience for each person. The spotlighting highlighted the piece with an exquisite soft glow, effectively adding another layer of mystery to the portrait. She’d also surrounded the canvas with the images he’d provided showing it in various stages of completion.

Although Julianne invited people to get a closer look, he noticed she stood guard over Solitude like a soldier in front of Buckingham Palace. Her unswerving presence ensured no one forgot their place and reached out to touch Solitude, which invariably they all seemed to want to do.

Lost in his visual eavesdropping, Terry jolted back to reality when he felt the weight of a heavy arm land on his shoulders. The shock of this intrusion on his personal space caused him to flinch involuntarily, spilling his champagne in the process. He’d never been a touchy-feely type of person, in fact, just the opposite. Always protective of his personal boundaries, he’d only felt comfortable with shows of affection between his close, life-long friends, Jody and Nathan.

Expecting to meet another art scene groupie who had no problem at all invading his personal space had him bracing himself. Plastering a smile on his face, he swung around to greet the most recent masher. Instantly, his phony smile transformed into a genuine grin as he found himself face-to-face with Nathan, the second musketeer in his intimate group of friends. Terry allowed Nathan to pull him into a familiar, warm hug, one so full of love only dear, old friends would dare display in public.

Nathan, Terry, and Jody had started out as childhood friends who remained as thick as thieves over the years. Good or bad, sickness or health, they were always there for each other. Despite the fact they knew one another’s deepest, darkest secrets, the love they shared broke all limits. They’d spent the majority of their lives proving their devotion by dropping everything when needed and being there for support or whatever else the situation called for. The comradeship and love between them had deepened and became even more treasured with each year that passed. They were family, not by blood, but by choice.

“Dude, hell of a show! I’m impressed,” Nathan bolstered.

Terry slipped out of his friend’s embrace. “Of course, you’re impressed. My craft touches the soul.” He waved his hands in a grand, dramatic gesture. “Just ask anyone here,” his voice comically haughty.

Nathan laughed as he accepted a glass of champagne the waiter had dutifully offered him. He held his glass high and teased, “You’re the man!” He downed the sparkling wine in one gulp. The timber of his voice lowered conveying his sincerity. “Seriously, Terry, what I’ve seen so far is breathtaking. I’m really proud of you.”

Puffing his chest out with pride, Terry allowed a broad smile to light his face. His biggest critics had always been his best friends. If they liked what they saw, he knew they’d tell him. They’d also be the first to say his art was shit, and he needed to go back to the drawing board. Literally. Heat borne from pleasure radiated through his face with his friend’s sincere praise. “That means a lot coming from you, Nathan. Thanks.”

Terry scanned the people standing around Nathan. “Did Jody come with you?”

“No. I tried calling her, but I figured she was too busy getting ready to put all the other women here to shame to answer my call.” He traded his empty glass for a full one. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

From the moment he’d decided to include Solitude in the show, Terry had been antsy. He should’ve gotten Jody’s permission before showing the canvas. Not having her consent weighed heavily on him. Truth be told, he’d acted like a selfish prick, and that fact ate him up inside. He knew if she had objected and asked him not to show the canvas, he would’ve gone against her wishes for the first time in their lives. Jody hadn’t even been aware he’d used her likeness. The thought of his best friend seeing the portrait for the first time in such a public setting had his heart skipping a beat. What would her reaction be? Would she love Solitude? Would she understand he’d created the portrait out of love for her? Would she forgive him for displaying her very raw emotions in such a public way? Oh God. What have I done?

Showing his annoyance, Nathan snapped his fingers in front of Terry’s face. “Where’d you go? I’ve been talking to you, and you’re completely ignoring me.”

Guilt caused him to wince involuntarily. “I’m not a good friend. I haven’t told Jody about the portrait I did of her. I hope she doesn’t kill me.”

Nathan waved him off. “I haven’t seen it yet, but don’t worry your pretty little head off. I’m sure it’s a beautiful piece of work. If I know Jody, she’s going to love it.”

His best friend poked him hard on the shoulder. “So did you surprise me with a portrait?” He made a show of craning his head while looking at the paintings in his field of vision. “I’m a god. I should be immortalized.”

Grateful for the subject change, Terry laughed and handed Nathan a third glass of champagne. “You may be a god, but you’re ugly as hell. Your portrait would scare the crap out of people. Small children would have nightmares. I can’t have the art gallery patrons running in all directions screaming about how awful the subject matter of my work is, now can I? The press would crucify me. People would ban me from parties.” Continuing with the lighthearted banter, Terry pretended to be apologetic by exaggerating a shrug. “I’d probably never get laid again. You wouldn’t want that weighing on your conscience, would you?”

“You’re an ass,” Nathan said with a chuckle and a quick shove. “By the way, I brought my partner. You should be impressed. I don’t think he ever goes out socially.” He glanced around at the people surrounding them. “I don’t see him at the moment, but I’ll introduce you when we come across him.” He took a sip of the cold, sweet, bubbly wine and made a show of letting it roll around in his mouth. “Damn, that’s good champagne.”

Nathan leaned in closer to Terry. “The guy is exorbitantly wealthy, but I wouldn’t expect a sale from him. Your work is emotionally stimulating, and he’s purely cerebral. He seems to like art but responds better to more of an architectural aesthetic. I don’t think he’d know what a genuine emotion was if it sashayed right up and bit him on the ass.”

Taken aback by his friend’s unflattering remarks, Terry shot his eyebrow up questioningly. Nathan rarely talked about the man who’d convinced him to retire from the Phoenix police department. Spurring his curiosity, he wanted to hear more. “Really? That surprises me. Why would you go into business with someone like that?”

Nathan chuckled. “Well, there are several reasons, but I’ll give you the two most important. First, he’s filthy rich, and I get whatever I need without much fuss. Second, his personality is perfect for being a private investigator. He’s analytical to a fault and about as cold as they come. He doesn’t let emotion alter his judgment. That’s a good thing because I don’t think he’d know what to do if he suddenly displayed such a girly aspect to his persona. He’s a man’s man. He might crumble and fall to the floor in little pieces if he actually felt any type of honest emotion.

“I swear he’s the reincarnation of John Wayne, or at the very least one of his more memorable, take-no-shit, old-time western characters. The man doesn’t let anything get in his way. He’s tenacious and never gives up the hunt no matter how difficult. Besides, people don’t say no to him, ever. He just turns those steely, dark eyes in their direction, and the world drops at his feet. If you’re unfortunate enough to be on the other side of that piercing, intimidating glare, you’re a goner. In great part, he’s the best in the business because he’s composed and relentless. People don’t hire him because they like him. They hire him because they know he will deliver whatever dirt he can find on the asshole he’s got in his sights.

“When he asked me to leave the police force and head the new security division of his company, I couldn’t say no to him. You remember how frustrated I was while on the force? A cop always has to be careful not to step on anyone’s toes for fear the case will fall apart due to some trumped up legal technicality.”

Terry made a point of nodding his head affirmatively, happy his friend had found a way to deal effectively with the criminal element he detested so much.

He’d always idolized Nathan’s superhero mentality. He was born to be in law enforcement. He was aware of how frustrated his friend had been during his time with the Phoenix police department. Not only did the bad guys always seem to win, but the justice system provided them with all the rights. That fact left the victims of crime feeling abused and victimized all over again, effectively making him lose his passion for police work.

While most people thought of Nathan as being an intimidating tough guy, Terry knew him to be quite softhearted. Because of his sympathetic nature, the justice system had left him disillusioned many times.

“J.D. is a force to be reckoned with, never breaking the law per se, but skirting the edge of it to get whatever he needs to crack his case. He always finds a way to apprehend the bad guys which allows him to make a real difference in the world. The rules are far more lax for private investigators than they are for cops, and he has no qualm about pushing those boundaries to the limit.”

It’d been Terry’s experience that every time Nathan thought back on his life as a cop, his mood turned sour. The inadequacies of the justice system had started to stress his friend out so he’d lighten the mood a bit. “When you say ‘filthy rich,’ are you talking Paradise Valley rich?”

Nathan scoffed. “After everything I’ve just said, that’s what you zeroed in on?”

“Hardly.” To prove his point, he listed what he’d heard, ticking off each personality nugget Nathan had covered with his fingers. “Filthy rich. Recluse. John Wayne. Bigger asshole than most. Badass P.I. See? I was listening.” Terry laughed and playfully punched Nathan. “However, we are at my art show, and my work is for sale. That just seemed like the most pertinent information about him at the moment. So, how rich is ‘filthy rich’?”

His ploy worked. Nathan’s mood visibly lightened. “Okay. I see your point. What I mean by ‘filthy rich’ is an isolated mansion on top of Camelback Mountain with a private jet, personal pilot and crew rich.”

The impressive list of assets had Terry’s mouth dropping open. “I think we need to find him and give him the personal touch when showing him my art. Surely there is something here he’d like.”

****

Trying to release all the knots in her body, Jody groaned through her stretch. She slowly swung her head to loosen the muscles and reached up to massage her neck. Why the hell does my neck hurt so bad?

Her mind still muddy from sleep, it took a great deal of effort to open her eyes. Feeling befuddled, she scanned her living room, but for the life of her couldn’t figure out why she felt so confused. Rubbing the grogginess from her eyes, she strained to sit up. “I must have taken a nap. Damn. I’ve got to get a better couch. Sheesh! Feeling this bad after a good rest is ridiculous.”

Trying to get her bearings, Jody sat stock still. Glancing at the windows across the room, a prick of alarm hit her square in the gut when she realized darkness had fallen. That’s impossible. When did I fall asleep?

An unexpected feeling of dread washed over her when she noticed the computer sitting on the table in front of her. Staring at the laptop as if it would reveal some important secret only served to intensify her distress. A wisp of a thought niggled somewhere in the back of her mind trying to get her attention, but she just couldn’t grasp the problem. Her brain, still in the process of coming back to life, didn’t allow for rational thought. Considering everything in her field of vision, she tried to determine what was out of place. Something wasn’t right here. Her gaze shifted back to her coffee table and zeroed in on the computer again. She bolted upright, reaching out to the laptop without actually touching it. “Why is the computer…”

As the memory of Fiona jumping into her body and kidnapping her spirit seeped slowly into her mind, Jody’s eyes widened in horror. Without thought, she jumped to her feet. “That must have been hours ago! How long have I been out?” Her legs wobbled and felt heavy like she’d just run a marathon. Every ounce of energy had been drained from her body leaving her weak as a kitten. Unable to stay upright, she flopped down hard on the couch, trying desperately to piece the recent events together in her head.

The memory of the bone-crushing landing at the end of the tunnel had her examining herself to determine if any damage had been done to her physical body. Her hands busily ran up and down her limbs. She touched every place she could reach and found no injury other than tired, sore muscles. Thank goodness.

As the memories of her out-of-body moments started coming back to her, her cell phone rang—the noise cutting through the quiet like a slap in the face. She shrieked with fear as if something had just jumped out and screamed boo. Clutching her head, she tried her best to get a hold of herself.

Straining to stand, she cursed the weakness in her legs. Focusing all of her attention on putting one foot in front of the other, she crossed the room to find her phone in her purse. When Nathan’s number popped up, she started to answer but stopped short.

“Oh my God! What time is it?” She glanced at the clock on the wall and almost fainted. Dropping the phone without answering, she hustled toward the kitchen. Her body needed some sugar, needed that quick rush to get herself moving. She tried to summon every ounce of strength she had left while stuffing her mouth with Twinkies and a banana. Sugar will just have to do until I can drive through someplace and get a burger on the way to the show.

Putting the events of the day aside, she couldn’t miss Terry’s art exhibit. The show was too important to him which made it important to her. She would be there to support him come hell or high water, or even little Fiona.